


The Ihbtos

by UniquelyQueer_67



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actually quite a huge shit, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, BAMF Hunith, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Because of Reasons, Biblical References, Combat, Exposition Man Gaius, Feels, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Intense, Kissing, M/M, Magical creatures and junk, Merlin is a Little Shit, Plot, Plot Twists, Resurrection, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but subtle - Freeform, it's scary, merlin gets possessed, the heckin MACE, ya'll know i couldn't resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-07 01:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniquelyQueer_67/pseuds/UniquelyQueer_67
Summary: After a magical mishap, something seems off with Merlin. By the time Gaius places the symptoms, it's already too late...Which breaks the king's heart.





	1. Merlin's Dinner Party

Sounds flooded Merlin's senses; his rasping breath, the hammering of his heart as blood rushed through his body, the humming of adrenaline in his veins, the whisper of disturbed leaves and branches, and the heavy padding of hooves as he fled the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

All he wanted to do was investigate the strange behaviours of Camelot's most recent prisoners, hoping to find some rickety old hag who'd put a curse on Arthur's people. But instead, Merlin found himself fleeing from a ravenous evil.

Panic was beginning to set in, a wild flittering sensation that Merlin knew would soon transform into something heavier than the steel that forged the contents of Camelot's armoury. So Merlin did the only thing he ever did in these scenarios: he remembered what he'd learned.

The warlock knew that he had read about this creature somewhere, so he reviewed the facts:  
·It can only be seen by magic folk  
·It has no solid form  
·It does not feed, nor rest  
·It has no known weakness  
·When it enters its host it rids them of...of...  
_That's the most important part!_  Merlin thought. _It rids them of......_

The warlock suddenly lurched forward after his horse tripped on a loose root. He slammed into the earth with a crack, unsure whether it was from a bone or a twig. Merlin watched helplessly and with blurring vision as his horse sprinted out into the blackness of the night.

The last thing Merlin saw before losing consciousness, was a blue mass, glowing...ghostly; and with every passing second, getting closer and closer, until it was looming over him. Ominous and deathly whispers filled his mind, and everything faded to black.


	2. Nocturnal Hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you accidentally put on clothes you can't remember putting on.

Merlin faded in and out of consciousness, feeling cold hands under him, the sway of a cart, the smell of magical herbs; _druids,_ Merlin thought before falling into deep sleep once again.

He woke with a start, suddenly in his own bed, the afternoon sun flooding the space. Finding himself suddenly overcome with nausea, he flopped back into his bed and let his body recover for a few minutes, wondering if it was all just a bad dream...

The next thing he knew he was slowly waking up again, a soft glow casting shadows around his room.

It was morning.

Merlin had fallen back asleep and slept until morning. Strangely though, he felt...energised.

 _This is the best night's sleep I've ever had!_  He thought as he leapt out of bed and through the door to greet Gaius, that man had done so much for him.

The physician's look of horrified confusion left Merlin taken aback,  
"What on earth are you wearing?" He asked calmly. Merlin looked down at himself. The silk and satin flowed over his scrawny frame. _Where did I get this? WHEN did I get this? Wait._

_It's Morgana's._

"What the-" was all Merlin could manage to get out,  
"I take it you've no idea how it got there, then?" Gaius asked, still ogling him,  
"No!" Merlin squeaked defensively,  
"Most likely a practical joke from the knights then. A sort of 'Welcome Home', I suppose."  
"I'll be honest, this doesn't strike me as very _homely_  at first glance, Gaius." Merlin whipped around to return to his room, intending to remove the dress.

He caught himself in the mirror though. _Not a big fan of the dress, but the fabric doesn't look half bad. I could make this work..._

"Very funny Merlin." Gaius interrupted.  
"Did I say that out loud?" He asked gingerly,  
"Yes." Merlin's mentor replied shortly. The boy went bug-eyed.  
"I think I'll go change now." Merlin blurted before fleeing to his room and practically tearing the dress from his body.

Now dressed appropriately, he delivered the garment to Gaius and pleaded,  
" _Please_  don't let _anyone_  hear of this."  
Gaius smiled and nodded in agreement.

With that, he left to fetch the king's breakfast.

{«<·>»}

On the way he passed Gwen, who cheerily smiled, but faltered when he noticed Merlin's skittishness,  
"Are you alright, Merlin?"  
"Fine." Merlin replied too fast, forcing a smile and attempting to sweep past the Queen of Camelot,

"No, no you're not." She eyed him with sympathy after gripping his wrist. Merlin sighed and put on a brave face before he attempted at a reply,  
"You know that I got into that incident with those bandits the other day, right?" It always felt terrible to lie to any of his friends, but Merlin hadn't a choice,  
"Yes, it was terrible. Are you alright?" She asked in her typical bleeding-heart way. Merlin persisted,  
"Well, I'm still a little shaken u-" before Merlin could finish his sentence, Gwen hugged him, pulled away, nodded and left.

Merlin sighed, this was gonna be a long day.


	3. Involuntary Vocal Spasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tells the truth.

 

Merlin slept well that night and woke up feeling just as refreshed as the night before (this time not in Morgana's old clothes). He had breakfast with Gaius and proceeded with his chores as normal. It was almost suspicious how monotonous his day was, not one strange outburst.

 

Then, while he was mucking out the stables, Gwaine appeared behind him,

"Gods, Gwaine! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Merlin snapped, a bit more on edge than he'd previously thought,

"Sorry, Merlin. Princess wants you in his chambers." He shrugged before leaving the stable with a charismatic swish of his cape.

 

Merlin opened the door of the king's chambers, Arthur swung around. A wave of relief washed over his face that he would inevitably deny, should Merlin ask.

 

"Merlin! I need you to help me choose something to wear to the feast next week." He announced, gesturing to his bed, which was covered in his best tunics.

"You mean the treaty signing?" 

"Yes."

Merlin looked between his shirtless master and the tunics, then sighed,

"Arthur, you've done this before, you're going to wear your ceremonial chainmail and cape. You always do." Arthur feigned thoughtfulness, Merlin rolled his eyes,

"Yes I suppose it is tradition..." The king pretended to consider. This time Merlin rolled his eyes _and_  sighed. 

 

He turned to leave, when suddenly he had something new to say, almost not from himself...almost,

"Why not wear your white tunic?" He asked politely. Arthur let out an amused chuckle,

"I don't think so, Merlin." He shook his head,

"Well then, how do you _want_  to look, sire?" Merlin queried, "What effect do you hope to achieve?"

Arthur considered this for a moment,

"Fearless, tactile, a natural born leader," Arthur mused, puffing out his chest in the most amusingly obnoxious way, "ready for a battle at the drop of a hat." He mimed drawing his sword, then replaced it in its imaginary hilt before turning to Merlin. He nodded, satisfied with the image he was putting across.

 

"At a treaty signing?" Merlin lowered his head and lifted his eyebrows, mocking Arthur's poor choice of impression,

"As good as you look in Pendragon red, sire, I think the simple white tunic would be a much better option." Merlin walked over to the bed, picking up said tunic,

"And why is that, Merlin?" Arthur humoured his servant, crossing his arms. They locked eyes for a moment, each one challenging the other in one of their usual battles of will. Merlin whipped around and began pacing the room theatrically as he spoke,

"White represents peace, purity and harmony. The message you wish to send is one of war, not of peace; undoubtedly inherited from your father. You need to show these people that the king they're forming an alliance with is loyal, willing to communicate, compromise and, above all, _support_  their kingdoms." He turned to face the thoughtful expression of Arthur,

" _I_ know you're capable of all that, but do they?" Merlin finished by holding out the tunic to Arthur, who slowly reached out and took it, a scandalised look on his face.  _Probably from the comment on his_ dead _father, Merlin; get some restraint._

 

The king seemed to consider it for a moment, before promptly turning around and placing the tunic back in its original spot on the bed.

 

"That was lovely Merlin, but tradition is tradition." 

"Then why did you even-" Merlin protested, 

"Tradition. Merlin." He shot his servant a warning look.

 

Merlin felt a deep-seated rage begin to bubble up through him. Suddenly, thoughts formed words,

"Tradition can kiss my arse! It's basically just a load of old men trying to see how long they can get away with doing whatever they want, whilst simultaneously controlling and manipulating everyone around them!" Merlin clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes bulging. He was a man possessed.

 

Arthur looked at him, not in anger, not even in shock, but in _awe_  of the nerve his friend possessed.

 

"I have to go now. Gaius has errands for me to run. Goodbye, Arthur." And with that, he stumbled out of the king's chambers, shaken to his core.

 

{«~»}

 

He told Gaius what happened. The physician appeared to consider something for a moment, before promptly dismissing it,

"This outburst could just be from the stress of the other day. You did almost get attacked by that creature." He reassured his nephew, who sighed dejectedly. 

 

Then, he had an idea. _How did I not think of this before? It's worked for years!_

"I could sew!" Gaius raised his eyebrow at the slight absurdity of what Merlin just suggested, nay, blurted, "My mother taught me to sew when I was a child so I could help mend clothes. By the age of eleven, I could make my own clothes! I could do that, it might reduce stress. It always worked when I was a child, especially in storms!" He explained. 

 

Gaius looked sceptical at first, clearly believing that his nephew's idea was less than clinical (and, therefore, irrational), before seemingly giving in. With a surrendering sigh he added, 

"Very well. There should be sewing supplies and fabrics being sold at the market place in the lower town. Go and buy some, I will take care of your chores."

 

{«~»}

 

Merlin saw Gwen in the market while picking out some fabrics, "Just checking on my old home." She informed Merlin, before suggesting the material the warlock would actually end up using.

 

He felt better already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for taking so long to update!! I've been logged out of the site on my phone so I did this on my laptop, hope I haven't lost any readers... but, you'll all be glad to know that I have a fairly detailed plan of what I'm gonna do with this fic. I think you'll like it. ;)  
> Also, the chapters may vary in quality as I'm still finding my footing when it comes to finding a certain style of writing. If it reads as rushed, it probably was, sorry...


	4. Bouts of Aggression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin demands a rematch.

Merlin's trend of sound sleep was broken; he knew it was too good to be true.

 

Not only did he wake up several times in the night after having some  _truly disturbing_ dreams, but he woke Arthur up in a bad mood and ended up receiving an  _extensive_ array of errands to run before he could even  _consider_ having lunch, of all things!

It was safe to say that by midday, Merlin found watching King Clotpole get clobbered by his knights during afternoon training  _particularly_ satisfying. He let a malicious smirk spread across his lips as Gwaine deliberately ignored a knight's rule of combat in order to land Arthur on his arse.

"Sir Gwaine! The Knight's Rules are there to ensure fair and  _honourable_  combat! Please stick to them if it's not too much trouble!" barked the king as he leapt to his feet, stare scalding. Gwaine merely mocked his stoic facial expression and giggled a, "Of course, Princess!"

 

Merlin got a sudden idea.

 

Quickly brushing away his fear of Arthur's temper and lack of combat skills with a kind of ease he'd never experienced before, he piped up, "Gwaine's got you spot on, sire!"

Much to Merlin's delight, his employer sank his teeth into the bate like a rabid dog and, from across the training field, jeered, "Don't you have armour to polish? Specifically  _mine_!"

"I just finished them, your majesty." the younger man chirped, hands clasped behind his back in mocking parody of the "proper posture" of a servant, a bright smile painted onto his face.

Arthur didn't like that at all; it was obvious by the way he was marching determinedly across the field to his manservant, a fire in his eyes that Merlin  _knew_ meant he'd already accepted the challenge, before Merlin had even suggested it. Something beastly within Merlin purred with satisfaction. He wasn't going to let Arthur say whatever he was planning on roaring in his manservant's general direction. So he spoke first, "If I may, my lord," he began, the "No you may not." clearly displayed in the king's eyes betraying the otherwise tranquil blue colour of them, "your swordsmanship is impressive, but it would seem that your skill with the mace undermines that impressiveness in your neglect of it." he "politely" pointed out, in a tone so falsely sweet Merlin suspected it may rot his teeth.

 

A crowd of knights and servants were gathering around the pair, but Merlin payed them no mind. His skin was buzzing with electricity that he was aiming directly at Arthur. As predicted, the king of Camelot gave as good as he got, "How would you know?" he spat, the anticipation of how Merlin might answer radiating off his armour. Merlin could smell him now, he'd stepped so close. The unique scent of sweat, metal, grass and a musk that was uniquely  _Arthur's_ whispering to Merlin, egging him on.  _Do it,_ they tempted. The purring was getting louder.

"I've improved massively since our last quarrel involving a mace. My point is that you may very well have let them surpass your own." Merlin drawled, poking Arthur in the chest, lying  was of no consequence while he was busy... poking, prodding, provoking.

 

Before Merlin had time to register the darkening in Arthur's eyes, he'd grasped onto Merlin's wrist, twisting until he had the appendage pressed tightly between Merlin's shoulder blades. The warlock let himself gasp out in pain, throwing his head forward and then back as Arthur pushed his wrist further up.  _Okay, this kind of hurts now,_ he thought, momentarily losing his new and stronger nerve until, "Care to put that to the test,  _Mer_ lin?" the king hissed, Merlin's ears heating with Arthur's breath.  _This is going to go_ very _well..._ Merlin thought, speaking, "Any time, any place."

Arthur threw him a few feet away after releasing his clamp on Merlin's wrist, "Right here, right now." he proposed, picking up a mace and throwing it at Merlin, who caught it without taking his eyes off Arthur.

The king only had the decency to look off balance for a moment before picking up a mace of his own and twirling it around his head. Merlin was getting impatient, "Oh quit showing off like Gwaine in a tavern and hit me!" Arthur grinned with malice and brought his mace down, Merlin skilfully dodging it immediately, causing the unsuspecting Arthur to topple onto the ground. He brought his own mace down, Arthur rolling over to dodge it and then scrambling to his feet.

They both attempted several more blows, never quite hitting their opponent until they began circling one another like two lions fighting over a particularly juicy carcass, "Still think your mace is better?" Merlin teased, relishing the buzz under his skin.  _I don't know what this is, but I'm not complaining at all,_ he thought. His opponent smirked, eyes twinkling, "We'll see." he almost whispered before pouncing at Merlin, again the warlock dodged. And again. And again.

 

Finally, Merlin decided he'd had his fill, taking a moment to admire Arthur's sweat slicked skin ( _admire?_ ) before, without warning, swinging his mace at Arthur's feet. The blond man cried out before landing flat on his back with a thud, his cry turning into a pained groan. The warlock pressed his foot to Arthur's chest, preventing him from righting himself, and smirked victoriously down at the panting monarch at his feet. He reached down, offering a hand to the king and pulling him up, "I win." Merlin whispered devilishly into the other man's ear. The look on his face was priceless.

"Right then," he chimed, clapping his hands together, "I have chores to do." Merlin smiled sweetly before nodding a farewell to the knights and strutting away, desperately suppressing his urge to grin wide as he overheard Arthur breathlessly sigh "Bloody hell." long after standing up and catching his breath.

 

{«~»}

 

Still positively  _glowing_ from his victory, Merlin swaggered through the palace kitchens, stealing a crusted capon and stuffing it into his mouth. He merely shrugged and kept walking when the cook yelled at him. Nothing could stop him today. not anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have a theme for the chapter titles; they're all going to be worded like a list of symptoms or tell-tale signs of a disease/sickness of some kind.  
> Also, who's got a knife? Cos this sexual tension is T H I C C


	5. Dissociation & Loss of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine POV  
> What's Merlin doing out past curfew?

This was Gwaine's first night-time patrol of the lower town since the Princess introduced the new curfew. He remembered the announcement, "In light of the recent crime wave -  thievery, vandalism and the like - the royal council and myself have agreed to impose a curfew. There are to be no citizens of Camelot outside of their homes past sundown. Those who are caught violating this curfew, will spend the rest of the night in the dungeons. That will be all."  a myriad of protests erupted from the crowds below, Arthur perched safely atop the North Tower -  always out of reach, untouched by the mirth of his enemies (even when not within the fortress that was his home). Gwaine always wondered why that was, but he had no time to do so now. He was on patrol, "Vigilance..." he muttered to himself.

The long haired (and extraordinarily attractive, if he said so himself) knight scanned the cobbled streets as Camelot slept, bathed in darkness and sprinkled with moonlight, when a shape shifted in the distance. Gwaine's hand flew to the hilt of his sword out of an instinct developed by hours of training with the king, "Who goes there? So says a Knight of Camelot!" he warned, intimidation usually worked. The mass of black chuckled lightly, Gwaine scoffed, "If you've the courage to laugh in the face of imprisonment, why not show your face?" he mocked -  if that didn't work, nothing would.

The figure stepped out from the shadows, the face of the man gaining clarity in the lunar limelight, "Because you'd be too distracted to work." Merlin grinned mischievously, rocking back and forth on his heels, his pockets bulging with objects which Gwaine wrote off as herbs for Gaius. Gwaine relaxed; exhaling, he released his grip on his weapon. 

"Thank the Gods, Merlin, it's just you. But you do realise you're out past the curfew, do you not? The sun set hours ago." Gwaine knew his tone was getting more suspicious with every word, but he couldn't help it; what bizarre circumstance lead  _Merlin_ to be out well past curfew like this? It just didn't add up...

"If you're lost or drunk I can escort you back to my home and you can stay the night. It would be unwise to return to your own chambers within the castle at this hour. You would look very suspicious..." Gwaine trailed off, Merlin wasn't even reacting to him. He was just standing there, rocking back and forth, eyes blank and with a soft smile stretching his mouth not quite far enough. It was...unsettling...

It was like he wasn't even fully awake, like he was in some kind of state of limbo between rest and wakefulness, teetering on the edge of consciousness...

"Merlin?" Gwaine approached cautiously, reaching out to touch Merlin. If he reacted to the touch, he was probably just daydreaming.

"I think I'll go to yours." he suggested cheerily, slightly startling Gwaine; but the smile this time was real, so Gwaine sighed, "Creepy bastard..." he laughed to himself. His friend, honestly.

 

{«~»}

 

They chatted merrily through the lower town, Gwaine sharing his latest drunken conquests and Merlin sharing his grievances with and embarrassing stories of Arthur. It was nice, it distracted him from the monotony of night patrols; despite their earlier protests, the citizens of Camelot seemed to be obeying the curfew with little resistance. They did trust their king, at the end of the day. He loved talking to Merlin anyway, laughing with him (mostly at him), sharing stories and listening to one another's problems sometimes. Merlin always knew what to say.

"After you." Gwaine joked as he unlocked his door, Merlin doing a polite bow in response before ducking into Gwaine's home, "Feel free to make yourself some tea, I have to continue my patrol." he turned to leave when Merlin caught his arm with a vice-like grip. 

With a gasp, Gwaine turned, "What's wrong?" he asked, concern for his friend showing on his face.

Merlin's eyes were dark and blank again, Gwaine's widened in panic, "Merlin are you alright?" he tapped Merlin's shoulder, then again, harder, "I should get Gaiu-" he was cut short by Merlin's hand on the back of his head, yanking him into a fierce kiss.

Gwaine's reaction was slightly delayed by shock, but soon he was reciprocating the gesture, sliding one hand up Merlin's back, from his tailbone to the nape of his neck, the other tightly gripping the other man's hip. Merlin pulled away and Gwaine had only just opened his eyes when he saw Merlin's glow momentarily before hearing his door slam and lock of its own accord. Gwaine only just had time to think the words:  _Merlin has magic_ before the warlock's lips were back on his and he was being pushed against the wall with surprising force.

Merlin was lucky, Gwaine supposed. The knight had had many encounters with magic users in his travelling days, many of which were men. So the last thing he would do was condemn his friend or report him to the king. He had seen too many die at the hands of Uther; besides, Arthur would execute Merlin purely out of a false sense of duty. Gwaine wasn't  _blind,_ he knew that it would destroy Arthur from the inside out - he'd never be the same, never feel happy or satisfied again, despite his wife's undivided affection.

Then, as quickly as they'd presented themselves, Merlin's lips left Gwaine's and by the time he opened his eyes again, Merlin was gone.

 

{«~»}

 

All that was left, was the image burned into Gwaine's retinas of Merlin's eyes glowing; a rich, sparkling gold filling his irises, save for a sliver of electric, angry blue surrounding his pupil, barely visible.

 

 

 _That's new_ , Gwaine thought...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwing a bone to all the Merwaine! shippers out there! Merlin's condition seems to be worsening, I wonder how much worse it'll get? Also, herbs?? Really Gwaine??? I expected better from you...


	6. Impulsive Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 days to Treaty Signing

It turned out that the disturbed night sleep Merlin had had before was just a blip, because he slept like a baby every night since. His sewing was really coming along too, he wasn't sure what he was making yet, but he knew it would be elegant and made from a material that was (ironically) rather similar to that of the dress that Merlin found himself in that fateful morning. He assumed Gaius had accepted Merlin's form of treatment quite well too, because Merlin would often wake up with various fine threads and gems for embroidery sitting next to his work on his desk.

Although, Merlin was becoming increasingly concerned with the crime wave hitting Camelot; after all, he already found the culprit for the strange behaviours in Camelot's prisoners to be an anguished young warlock attempting to use mind control magic on Arthur to, guess what? Kill him. Of course, he was inexperienced and so resorted to honing his skills on Camelot's criminals before attempting the king. 

But Merlin caught him, and stopped him. He was now a valuable ally and gave Merlin useful intel on the plans of Morgana and her goons. So  _why_ was Camelot falling victim to a crime wave so soon? He puzzled over the fact at breakfast with Gaius. He noticed, of course, "Merlin, what appears to be bothering you?" Merlin looked up, eyes wide with feigned innocence, "Nmophing." he attempted through his mouthful of porridge.

_No._

_No, no, no._

_Nope, no way, nononono._

It was too late, the eyebrow was up. The damage...was done.

"I'm trying to find out if the recent crime wave was caused by magic..."  _I am weak... I am the most powerful warlock on earth, but an eyebrow has defeated me..._  

"I think it is possible, we cannot rule out everything. However, crime waves are fairly common occurrences compared to your usual vengeful sorcerer. I do believe this is a matter that requires further investigation." Gaius explained, Merlin hummed in agreement, deep in thought, "You should get out of Camelot, it may give you the space to think. Arthur is going on a hunting trip today and he will require your services. Go. Clear your head, Merlin." he instructed, why did Merlin always feel like one of Gaius' patients these days?

With a dejected sigh, Merlin finished his breakfast and headed across to the king's chambers for a day of sleeping rough, eating whatever had meat on it and trying really hard not to add Arthur to the menu.

 

{«~»}

 

Merlin eyed Arthur venomously, bobbing angrily on his horse, he spoke, "I don't understand why you can't just learn to pitch your own tent and cook your own food. Then I wouldn't have to come on these god-awful  _treks_ for days on end."

"Maybe I will, then  _I_ won't have to deal with your  _incessant whining._ " Arthur spat back. They'd been on this hunting trip for two days and the two were already at each other's throats; there weren't even any knights around to distract them. It was just Merlin and Arthur.  _Always just us,_ Merlin caught himself thinking.

The day wore on at a tedious, almost painful pace, just as the last did (and the one before that). Arthur managed to catch a few hogs, but nothing special. They were both tired and hungry, but the king had caught his finest hog and insisted it be saved and taken back to Camelot the next morning. 

So here they were, a king and his servant; sitting, defeated by a softly crackling fire and surrounded by darkness threatening to engulf them with every sputter of the flame. Arthur was looking straight up.  _He's watching the stars,_ Merlin thought with a slight smile, _he always did like the stars..._

"Arthur?" the king's head dropped and he met Merlin's eyes, relieved that his friend was talking to him again (although he'd never admit it), "What's wrong?" Arthur asked, his tone relaxed as he stoked the fire, "I'm sorry for being so disobedient over the last few days...I'm worried about the crime wave and I'm still recovering from when the bandits took me and I've had nightmares recently and I think I might be ill in some way because all these strange things keep happening to m-" the warlock was cut short on his ramblings by a warm pressure on his shoulder. He turned and found that while he'd been flapping his gums, Arthur had moved from his side of the fire and was now situated right next to Merlin. 

A warm and sympathetic smile spread across Arthur's lips and the something in Merlin purred again. His breath hitched sharply as Arthur pulled him into a tight and protective hug. Merlin squeezed hard, "I'm sorry too Merlin. I wasn't lying when I said that I'd have sooner left you in Camelot than bring you with me," he began, Merlin didn't interrupt, or mock. It was these moments, these moments where Arthur showed Merlin his heart, pulling it out of his chest and allowing his friend to hold it gently in his spindly hands. He could feel every beat, every quiver; and he'd give his life to protect that heart, as was his destiny, as was his fervent need, his undying wish, "but I only wished that because I couldn't bear to suffer like I had when Gaius told me you were missing. Promise me, Merlin, promise me you'll never scare me like that again."

It wasn't a command, nor a request, Arthur was  _pleading with him_. 

 

That was it, Merlin caved. He pulled out of his king's hug and pulled him back into a long awaited, devoted and meaningful kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst C O M M E N C E  
> This is a warning


	7. Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (still) 5 days to Treaty Signing

Merlin felt like every fibre of his being had begun to bloom like a most magnificent specimen of flora. At first he was unsure whether he was taking advantage of Arthur, remaining hesitant; but then his king's strong, calloused hands slipped around his neck and remained there, a comforting warmth as their lips danced. It was like the most beautiful ballet and the most passionate tango that had ever been, all at the same time. The beast inside the warlock's soul was barking and howling it's appreciation and gratitude, the beast that Merlin had felt, when he first met Arthur, rear it's head. He had no other way of expressing the feeling that was his secret desire for the one to whom he belonged, the magnitude of their joined fates so prevalent in the ancient texts.

He wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of Arthur, mind and body; to map him out like the exceptional specimen of humanity that Merlin knew he was. It was strange though, Merlin didn't feel the same buzz as when he challenged Arthur to a duel. No, this just felt so much more...genuine, voluntary...

They were in a bubble. One in which they had tucked themselves away, free from harm or judgement, responsibilities & obligations, hesitance & uncertainty. It was just the reality of  _them_ , their closeness, their - perish the thought -  _love._ He could feel Arthur's heart drum heavily in his palm, not doubting for a moment that he'd already handed his own to Arthur the very day he said, "There's something about you Merlin..."

They were safe, content.

 

 

Pop.

 

 

"ARGH!" Merlin cried out, clutching his shoulder, hands shaking violently and quickly staining with blood. The bowman and his fellow bandits closed in on the camp and Arthur swept Merlin up into his arms and placed him out of the way to combat the attackers.  _You're outnumbered..._ Merlin tried to warn the king, words failing his rapidly weakening body.  _They'll kill you..._ he thought as the land around him quickly began to grow fuzzy. His thoughts were sluggish, but he managed to piece together that this was some kind of poison arrow containing a strong sedative. Merlin had seen those bandits before and had used magic on them, so the warlock came to the conclusion that they'd learned from their last attack and sedated him in the knowledge that they could, try as they might, never hope to _kill_ Merlin and so sedated him to get him out of their way. 

" _Arthur..._ " was Merlin's last breath before the sedative took hold. He was under.

Grunts, pained cries and the clash of metal on metal, metal through flesh, metal on bone filled his mind. The sound of conflict, the sound of violence, the sound of the Cailleach, of the Dorocha's cries, of death. 

Merlin fought desperately for consciousness, eventually clawing his way to a barely alert state of wakefulness. Arthur's form was blurred, but he was surrounded and, by the look of his walking, injured. Mustering up all the strength he could attain in his current state, he muttered a spell, he put every drop of his feelings for Arthur into that spell. He pleaded with the ancient magics, chanting the same words over and over like a religious mantra;  _Let him live, please let him live -_  and every single bandit fell to the ground. The magic was unmistakable and the last thing Merlin saw before slipping into his nightmare once more, was the gut-wrenching concoction of horror, fury and heartbreak in Arthur's beautiful, _beautiful_ blue eyes as the king turned to look at his lowly, pathetic, treacherous manservant.

_I'm so sorry..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the previous chapter were meant to be one big chapter but i couldn't resist the cliffhanger! Also, I warned you...


	8. Anxiety & Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 days to Treaty Signing  
> Merlin/Arthur POV

Merlin awoke to a chill piercing his skin and shackles binding his flesh. Cold hard stone lay beneath his body and in the eyes of Leon, who was standing at the bars of the cell expectantly.

"Stand." Merlin staggered to his feet, the poison still heavy in his blood, "Leon, what, where's...why-?" 

"Shut up." Leon barked as he unlocked the warlock's cell and shoved his way in, Gwaine at his heels, "Where are you taking me?" he queried to Gwaine, who remained silent and refused to meet his eyes.  _What did I do to him?_   Merlin wondered before Leon answered his question, his tone prickly, "You are to face his Royal Highness in trial of the crimes of which you are accused."

"Oh Gods..." Merlin rasped, possibilities filling his mind. Images of the pire, of its flames and of the whaling bodies that were bound to it. Images of the lost souls of druid children wandering the forests of Camelot. Sounds of screaming, of angry cheering as Merlin's kinsmen were chopped, choked or charred in an attempt of mass genocide. 

"No..." Merlin began, squirming in the knights' grip, "No no NO NO NO!!!" Merlin resorted to hysterics, flailing and kicking and screaming with anguish and terror as Leon and Gwaine had to drag his fighting form from the dungeons and up the steps leading to the main part of the castle.

"Please, PLEASE GWAINE, PLEASE!!! Have m-mercy..." he sobbed, clawing and grappling at Gwaine's arm. He even looked remorseful, but still proceeded to yank him through the doors to the throne room. Writhing out of the knights' grip, Merlin turned away, not wanting to look at his king, he couldn't bare it. The knights mistook this for an escape attempt and gripped Merlin under his arms and dragged his now limp, motionless form along the polished floors before unceremoniously whipping him around and shoving their friend to the ground, forcing him to kneel.

"Merlin, son of Hunith, born of Ealdor," Arthur began to read the charges, _standard procedure_ , the warlock thought. The king paused for a moment, before swallowing loudly, clearing his throat roughly and continuing, "personal manservant to King Arthur of Camelot; you stand accused of crimes against the people of Camelot. Your charges include that of sorcery, conspiracy to assassinate the monarchy and high treason-" Merlin started shaking his head in sheer disbelief, "No no no, that's not it, Arthur. I never wanted to hurt you, I never have and never wi-"

"SILENCE when your king addresses you, criminal!" Arthur exploded and Merlin visibly, and violently, winced and whimpered.  _Pathetic,_ he scolded himself,  _you could use magic to get out of this situation easily, yet you cower in the face of command. Disgusting._ Merlin swallowed the bile quickly rising in his tight throat, "Yes, sire..." he complied.

"As is the law of Camelot, set by my father, you should be burned at the pire along with your belongings," Merlin felt tears gush down his cheeks and didn't even bother holding in his retching sob, "However," Merlin snapped his eyes up to Arthur, expecting to meet at least a shred of sympathy. Instead receiving a cold, apathetic glare from his king,"due to your faithful service to the crown and the nature of which you were witnessed utilising magic," the warlock heard Leon gasp behind him and Gwaine sigh, relieved, "you are banished from Camelot until your death." Arthur finished, the warlock let his head drop once more.

Merlin's heart cracked as Arthur tortured and destroyed it in front of his face. Lifelong banishment meant he could never see Arthur again. Ever. He could only protect the king so much from Ealdor as well, this would inevitably end in the premature death of Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King of Camelot and all Albion.

"That fate would be worse than death, my lord-" the king interrupted his ex-employee with the words, "I am not _your lord_ anymore, sorcerer scum." 

Suddenly he felt it, yes, that buzz. That electricity. The excitement. The  _rage._   _The_ _power._

"Get out of my sight." Arthur commanded, something snapped in Merlin in that moment (or clicked, who cares!?) and power flooded his body. His skin glowed with it, prickling. His mind filled with reminders of all the times Arthur had tossed him aside like the contents of his chamber pot. All the times he had tried his hardest to obey the Great Dragon, but struggled because of the king's stubbornness and pride. Then he remembered the kiss; how good it felt and then how Arthur had seemingly forgotten all about it the minute Merlin revealed his magic.

The rage and fury bubbled through him. Before he knew it, he was howling out his pure, limitless  _disdain_ of Arthur Pendragon.  _Yes,_ he thought,  _be afraid. I am Emrys, the greatest warlock to ever live! The druids worship me, rivals fear me, I am God!!_ He roared out a spell, sending streams of fire shooting through his veins.

A streak of the great tapestry bearing the mighty golden dragon of the Pendragon Crest; burst into flames.

 

({".-."})

 

Arthur watched in pure terror as Merlin let out an almighty roar akin to a dragon, his once golden eyes now half engulfed with an unnatural blue. He stared, gaping as a streak of flames ate away at the Pendragon Crest. Merlin fled. Arthur watched him go, he couldn't bring himself to order the knights go after him and merely held up his hand to stop them doing so out of duty. Instead, the knights worked to put out the flames. By the time the tapestry was pulled down, however, the flames were gone. Only an ugly, black scar remained where the flames once were.

 _How incredibly fitting,_ was the king's only thought.

He thought of the angry blue in Merlin's eyes, much more prominent than in the forest. It was reminiscent of the centre of a deadly fire; hot enough to seriously maim a man and causing only destruction in its wake.

_How suitable..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God. The. ANGST!  
> Sorry if it's a little rough, speed written  
> Tick tock...


	9. The Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 days to Treaty Signing  
> Arthur POV

Arthur spent most of his morning at his desk, looking over his speech for the Treaty Feast. He first felt his mood drop when he awoke to George opening his curtains. To avoid having his soul-sucking presence anywhere near his naked body, he ordered the arse-kisser to get Arthur's breakfast, dressing himself. From then on, his mood only plummeted.

He missed Merlin more than he could express, so he didn't express it. Instead, he got on with his work like a good king, trying with all his might to not think about Merlin.

Like how he used to ~~practically~~ write all of Arthur's speeches for him, handing them over with that smile that stretched his whole face into a perfect visual representation of the word "joy". 

Or how he used to use those  _ridiculous_ phrases to wake his king, "Wakey-Wakey, Arthur!" "Up and at 'em!" "Let's have you lazy daisy!". The king chuckled to himself, it was a strange sound; the kind of melancholy laugh that one would make if they saw a picture of a deceased relative doing something daft.

And Arthur  _definitely_ avoided thinking about Merlin's kiss. The plush warmth of his lips, so comforting and so inviting. How Merlin went completely pliant in Arthur's arms, unquestionably and totally surrendering himself to him.  _Yours and yours alone,_ he seemed to say, _until the end of time_.

But whenever Arthur let his thoughts drift like that, he was always struck with the unfair reality that Merlin was a  _sorcerer_ ; and a bloody powerful one. When Merlin let rage overtake him, Arthur could feel the ground under him shake and shudder with the man's every breath, a scalding cold gripping his insides as Merlin let out that roar. That horrible, bone-chilling, blood-curdling cry; laced with unprecedented fury and mirth.  _Resentment_ , even.

And all because Arthur had to punish him for having magic! How blinded by ignorance could one man get?

 

Before he realised what he was doing, he slammed his clenched fist down onto the table with a frustrated yell, knuckles white as the pale face of his loyal servant.

The clatter of metal on stone told him that George had just returned with Arthur's lunch, he shot the maggot a dark glare and he bowed politely (ugh) before fleeing from the king's chambers. Shortly after, Gaius entered the room, his expression soft and sympathetic (how dare he?).

"Your Highness, there is something I should share with you." he began, sitting on Arthur's bed and revealing a thick book entitled " _Magical Parasites and Poltergeists_ ".

"What's that?" Arthur enquired, gesturing to the book.

"It's the reason for Merlin's uncharacteristic behaviour these past few days."

"Show me?" He requested. Arthur never did dare boss Gaius around. The old man patted the spot next to him and Arthur walked over, settling next to the man who treated him like a son. Arthur was reminded of days gone by, when he was still nothing more than a beady-eyed child, unaware of the responsibilities that would one day weigh heavily on him, dangling from his crown like an anchor from a ship. He was reminded of when Gaius would tuck him into bed at night and read to him; sometimes fanciful tales, other times he'd read from some of his more interesting factual books.

Gaius turned to a marked page, pointing at an illustration that was little more than a blue streak, "This is what is making Merlin act so strangely." he stated matter-of-factly,

"What is it?" Arthur asked, with the same curiosity he'd had as a child learning about the strange creatures in Gaius' books,

"It is called an Ihbtos," he explained, "it possesses lost travellers and the like and feeds on them. People possessed by the creature are known as Niin" he stopped, waiting for another question from Arthur.

"How did you know it was an Ihbtos?"

"Ah! Well, the Ihbtos feed on a very particular part of you, one that Merlin began showing a lack of when he first returned from his que-kidnapping."

"And what part is that?"

"Your inhibitions! The limits and barriers you put not only around yourself, but that others put around you!"

"You sound awfully pleased about that. It just seems to me as though this...thing is eating away the only part of Merlin that stops him from completely letting loose, running amok around my castle, breaking things and steali-" Arthur paused as it clicked, "Merlin caused the- no, he  _is_ the crime wave!"

"Exactly! But the Ihbtos are not "things", Arthur."

"Oh yes, I know, they're intelligent and remarkable creatures, blah blah-"

"No, I mean, they're not creatures at all. They're people."

"You're joking."

"No. The Ihbtos are lost souls whose deaths were unjust, easily avoidable or the result of a conflict. They do what they do because they believe they help people. They take away people's limitations so that they may be who they truly are, and were always meant to be; as was their own dying wishes."

"If you're telling me that _that_ was Merlin's "true self" then Camelot should be very afraid..."

"Well, not necessarily. The Ihbtos can read your mind when they possess you and use that to set a sort of "goal". Like winning something or telling someone their deepest secret. Once that goal is achieved, the Ihbtos leaves the Niin and it's host can remember everything, waking up a changed person."

"So why is Merlin acting like this?"

"He failed."

"What?"

"If the Ihbtos fails to reach its goal, it will help along in the only way it can: by consuming more of your inhibitions. It will keep doing this until there are none to speak of and there isn't a single shred of humanity left in the unfortunate Niin."

"When did you first realise?"

"When Merlin challenged you to a duel. I already had my suspicions, so I followed Merlin throughout the day. When I saw him challenge you there was a kind of blueish glow to his skin."

"I didn't see anything."

"Any and all signs of the Ihbtos' presence except for the behaviour of its Niin are invisible to all but magic folk."

"His eyes."

"What about them?"

"They glowed, when he...used magic. They glowed gold and blue."

Gaius paused, thinking, "I've only ever read about the effects on a non-magical person. Merlin's eyes always flash gold when he uses his magic, everyone's do. The blue must be the Ihbtos trying to consume the inhibitions he has on his magic..." Gaius went pale as a sheet. Arthur felt sick. All that power, let loose by someone who was barely even human anymore. Arthur wasn't sure if he could take it.

A knock echoed through the king's chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! We now know what is responsible for Merlin being weird! Gaius is the perfect exposition tool, guys  
> 


	10. Weakened Immune System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 days to Treaty Signing  
> Arthur POV (until further notice)

"By this you will know that I am the Lord: With the staff that is in my hand I will strike the water of the Nile, and it will be changed into blood. The fish in the Nile will die, and the river will stink; the Egyptians will not be able to drink its water.” Exodus 7:17/18

 

{«~»}

 

"Enter." the king ordered, standing from the bed, Gaius following. Elyan swung the door open, panting, "Gods, what is it, Elyan?"

"Refugees, your Majesty; from Camelot's outer territories." he reported obediently. Arthur rushed to the North Tower balcony at once and found a sea of townspeople. From what he could view of the enormous caravan, they were from all manner of places: some from towns not directly connected to Camelot officially, but sit at its borders (like Ealdor), some from the outskirts of the kingdom and others from the farmland lining Camelot's borders. Arthur scolded himself for letting his mind drift to the birthplace of a sorcerer.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded of his knight, his eyes like granite.  _Nobody_   harms his subjects  _or_ their homes, their livelihoods, and escapes his wrath!

"They claim to have been attacked, your majesty. Their villages have been destroyed and many have injuries to prove it." Arthur didn't even have to open his mouth before Elyan had guessed his next question, "The knights are helping Gaius tend to their wounds." Arthur visibly relaxed. He would have to arrange settlements; the caravan was large, but his father had dealt with worse. Accommodation shouldn't be a problem.

"Take them in organised groups to the settlements, and spread this message to the local people: once the citadel is clear, I will make a decree on the rationing of supplies." Arthur instructed Elyan, who promptly whisked away with the reply of, "Leon will know what to do."

 

Arthur spent the next few hours planning ration sizes and methods of distribution, making sure to not waste a thing - unlike his father, who'd have no qualms with letting his people starve if it meant that he could still eat his favourite meal everyday. He was just going over the rations for the armies to ensure they were well-fed enough to fight this threat to his people if need be, when a knock at his door pulled the breaks on his train of thought.

"Your Majesty?" it was Leon. Although, all his knights had begun to use the titles "sire" and "my lord" less and less. Arthur thought it was pathetic; he silently thanked them.

"Permission to report?" Leon requested. Arthur waved his hand for him to continue, replacing the rationing chart onto his desk, "Your Majesty, myself and a team of your most trusted knights have been interviewing the refugees to determine a profile of wha-whoever destroyed their villages. We found one constant in their descriptions..."

"Go on."

"None of them can remember it. They remember the... screams and the... destruction, but never the face..."

"face? As in one face? Singular? This was a single man?" Arthur scoffed, that was ridiculous; and Arthur had seen some strange things during his reign. Leon looked him directly in the eye and said nothing. Arthur felt bile rising in his throat.

 

Like an angel from the Heavens, a huge commotion echoed through the halls, getting louder as voices approached Arthur's chambers. Muffled cries and shouts of "You cannot be here!" mingled with "Kiss my arse!" filled the silence. Suddenly, the door to Arthur's chambers swung open for the second time that day and in stomped a furious-looking village woman. 

Arthur nearly fell off his chair in an un-kingly attempt to distance himself from a scorned Hunith. Her eyes were red and puffy with tears, her face flushed with rage, her knuckles white with slipping restraint. Arthur calmly stepped out from behind his table, like the brave and noble warrior he was, and faced the small woman. He barely had a chance to even attempt to diffuse the situation before a palm threw itself full-force into Arthur's cheek. 

Gwaine's (he was obviously the one attempting to stop Hunith, or laughing as Percival did) baffled mumble of "Merlin's mum just smacked him one..." perfectly illustrated Arthur's entire moral dilemma at the present time.

 

"How could you!?" she wailed, the pained crack in her voice echoing around the hard stone walls, "I trusted you! I trusted you to protect him,  _I told him to trust you!_ " Hunith screamed, shoving the king in the chest, knocking him back purely out of shock, "My son! WHERE IS HE?" she demanded, grasping onto Arthur's shoulders and shaking, her eyes wide with the kind of hysterical fear and terror that could only truly be understood by a caring mother who has lost the child that she loved more than anything.

" _Please..._ " she sobbed, helpless and tired now, collapsing onto the king's confused form. He sheathed her in a hesitant, but understanding embrace, gently shushing her as she half-heartedly thumped her fists against Arthur's chest, quietly pleading, " _Why... why did you do this..._  where is he... where is my boy..."

Her words swam in Arthur's mind as he cradled the mother of the man he banished...  _Why did you do this?_

Arthur had no idea, but whatever it was; it was cowardly...  _and hurting._

 

{«~»}

 

As promised, Arthur announced the rations; and as always, his people were obedient and saw no fault in their king, leaving Arthur to wonder whether or not he truly deserved such reverence and devotion. Then his thoughts turned to Merlin again.  _His_ devotion to Arthur unmatched throughout Camelot, his reverence the most undeserving of all...

 

Refugees came in great waves over the next few hours, flooding the city; Arthur had to introduce a house-sharing policy. Additionally, the reports showed that all these refugees had been attacked by the same man... Arthur tried not to think about it unless he had to. He found himself growing weary and tired; still so youthful but so  _so_   _tired_.

He dreamt of Merlin that night, like all the nights before, and as it had done every previous night, the dream always ended in Arthur and Merlin in a tight, loving embrace. They'd kiss tenderly and whisper sweet nothings, their bodies in twined as if they were lovers; oh, how Arthur wished...

He wished he could have his Merlin back, always his, just as Arthur belonged to him. His heart grew closer and closer to shattering every night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bible verse not strictly necessary, but adds to the DRAMA! (plus it's fitting)  
> Weird how I keep mentioning the North Tower, right?  
> (also BAMF!Hunith, anyone???)


	11. Viral Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day before Treaty Signing

Arthur could feel something off in the air that day.

It was too thick.

Too constricting.

It was choking him.

Refugees filled Camelot, her walls almost convulsing with the effort of keeping Arthur's subjects safe and warm. He was hungry, as they were hungry; he was tired as they were so... and he was more scared than all of them combined. Dread was his new servant, inserting itself into every menial task, waking him, draining him.

He spent the morning rehearsing his speech, the afternoon training with his knights and the evening dining with his wife - all in almost complete silence. His eyes were sunken, his back slouched, his face sickly. He longed for nothing more than to sleep, but it did not matter how many of Gaius' sleeping elixirs he downed, his guilt and fear would never allow him such release.

"Arthur?" a sweet sound, caring. The king looked to his wife; whose eyes he couldn't and hadn't faced since... _that_  - the woman who he called his Queen, his world, his  _love_.

Thinking of such things now made him sick to his stomach.

"Hmm?" Arthur replied in false cheer.

"You haven't eaten." she glanced to his full plate. Arthur couldn't help letting out a long suffering sigh, grating his face into his hands, hoping to just scrape off all of this  _pain._

Guinevere stood, marched over to her insufferable husband, gripped him under his armpits and hoisted him to his feet.

"Go to sleep, Arthur." she sighed. Not "Come to bed, darling." in all its comforting domesticity, but "Go to sleep." - a plead, she was so  _tired_.

He sighed again, this time a kind of half-sob rattling from his calloused lips; a pained glimpse into his darkness. Gwen pressed him to her chest and held him there, her bosom so warm and secure. Arthur wondered if this was what the comfort of a mother was like.

Then it hit him. And he was tired once more.

 

Arthur was a warrior. He longed for nothing more than the heat and the rush of battle (as he always had when despair had soured his bones). He  _needed_ it like he needed air, like he needed  _Merlin_.

Oh Gods how he needed Merlin...

Another sob. And another, and another, and another into an oblivion of pain and longing and magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this got DARK. Sorry, will get better!! I promise!!! (but first it'll get worse, sorry!)  
> This is super short but school's been breathing down my neck. It will get juicier, promise ;)


	12. Night Terrors (Pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a bump in the night...  
> Run.

Of course Arthur lay awake that night (Guinevere a warm weight on his side), and while this was a burden for his nerves and his health, it made absolutely sure that when the alarm bells let out their ghoulish chime, the king was up and ready for battle.

"Someone has attacked the outer walls of the citadel and is leading a siege on Camelot, my king!" Leon yelled his information over the cacophony of panicked screams. Arthur drew in a long, determined and focused breath before turning to his awoken wife and kissing her. It was a goodbye and she knew it to be so, whispering words of parting in his ear, a single tear streaming down her cheek. _She always was so brave_ , Arthur thought.

He burst from his chamber in full armour soon after, marching with morbid purpose down the hallowed halls of his castle. His best knights kept in step just behind, their certainty a silent promise to the king that they would never leave his side as long as they lived. Arthur thought of that impossible man once more before pushing the image from his mind.

 

{«~»}

 

What Arthur faced when he was midway to the edge of the citadel sent his stomach lurching. Fleeing figures let out blood-curdling cries as they scurried and stumbled from their homes, a few already lay trampled to the ground, pale and frozen in terror and death.

"Elyan, take your squad and escort these people to the tunnels, take them to the forest and guard them there until I signal for your safe return! I want them out of the citadel, do you understand?!" Arthur ordered. His brother-in-law nodded obediently and did as instructed.

"Percival, take your men to the inner citadel and guard the castle, ensure anybody wandering the streets nearby is inside it! All royal servants are to return to their quarters immediately, is that clear?!" 

"Yes, your majesty." Percival turned and left.

"Gwaine, Leon, your squadrons are the smallest. You're with me." they nodded curtly and followed as Arthur cut through the crowds, aiming for the very edge of the citadel, knowing he would meet bodies in the hundreds.

 

{«~»}

 

What he saw made his blood run cold. 

All manner of great roaring beasts rampaged the lower town, attacking civilians and sending destruction through the once cheerful market stalls. His knights immediately went to defend the people of Camelot, cries of pain both human and animal filling the streets as Arthur's people escaped, broken, bruised and bleeding.

A creature that held a striking resemblance to that of a dragon but none of its size lunged at the king. Leon joined him in his wrestling of the creature, both men focusing primarily on preventing the creature from breaching the gates where a great feast people were still being escorted from the citadel.

Arthur came to the final conclusion that this,  _all of this_ \- was entirely his doing. He pushed Merlin, punished him. But the king still had no idea... _oh gods,_ he thought,  _what if Merlin was planning to kill me all this time?_

A sharp sting in his shoulder yanked him back to reality. Arthur let out a cry of pain as he realised he had a reasonably deep gash on his shoulder from where the creature had slashed it's talons at him. Blood seeped through his chain mail.

Leon dashed to his side, several other knights challenging the beast.

"You must be escorted back to the citadel." he informed, looking over the gash,

"Be fine, can still fight." Arthur ground out,

"I can't, in all good conscience, allow you to do that,"

"Then step aside-" Leon plunged a hand onto the king's other shoulder,

"No,  _you_ step aside," he looked the man deep in the eyes, his expression holding an authoritarian conviction that Arthur hadn't seen in years,

"Arthur, I've known you since you were a boy and I had barely just been recruited as a knight. You were back then, as you are now and will always remain; the bravest man I've ever met. But that courage comes with a price. One of stubbornness and of pride. But if there is one thing I know about you now, it is that you are above those things. This isn't about you or I, or even Merlin," Arthur cringed at the words, "It's about your kingdom, your people. You're the best king they've ever had, and may never have again; so don't you DARE be so selfish as to take that from them." and at that, he shoved Arthur into the hands of Gwaine, who walked him away and toward the gates.

And then a cry.

Pain pulsed through the air as the creature sent its claw slicing through Leon's chest, his face paling with approaching death almost immediately.

"NO!" Arthur roared in anguish, kicking and screaming in protest as Gwaine dragged him from the scene where a man who Arthur saw as his brother now lay lifeless, blood pooling like a soul-sucking abyss around his still corpse; his eyes were glassy, the warmth of his soul no longer lingering within them.

 

Arthur howled like with agonising grief as his heels dragged along the cobbles. Such stones remaining unaffected and cold in the face of so much death and destruction, soaked in innocent blood. Arthur was reminded of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER, BABY!!!!


	13. Night Terrors (Pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: it's just fucking brutal

The broken king, now carefully bandaged by Gaius, sat within his throne room (the safest room in the castle) guarded by Gwaine and Percival.

This wasn't their first choice of room though. Gwaine had originally escorted the king to his chambers, both soldiers freezing at the sight of a young woman wearing a silk nightgown laying lifeless and bloody upon the king's grand four-poster bed. Gwen's crown was forced around her neck; the delicate tines piercing the flesh under her chin, blood soaking her bosom; a note attached to the arrow in her shoulder read:

> _The angel's halo has slipped too far._

After being violently sick out of the nearest window, the two men solemnly made their way to the throne room.

By then Arthur sat grieving for his knight and his wife, when cries of pain echoed from just outside the doors. Arthur paled as they slowly opened, and a pale man wearing a silk drape stepped gracefully over the threshold, a pair of bodies laying behind him.

"Why?" Arthur asked, knowing full well it is because of the Ihbtos, but just wanting to hear Merlin speak.

He didn't - opting to smirk instead.

"Why did you kill them all, why did you destroy those villages- _Gods_ , Merlin,  _why?_ _"_

"Would you like to hear the whole story, old friend?" he asked sweetly, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

"If that's what it takes." the king spoke through gritted teeth,

"Very well." the sorcerer chirped. He then whispered words more ancient than the land Arthur stood on and suddenly several strings of cold metal chains slithered around his body; winding themselves around his neck and binding him by his hands and ankles. Arthur, after being knocked to his knees, maintained his fierce stare at the ground.

"Do you know, _Arthur Pendragon_ ," Merlin drawled his name mockingly, circling him slowly,

"how many times I've saved your life? Using the very thing that you and your father so  _fervently despise_." he hissed. Arthur always knew that Merlin was loyal to him, but he simply didn't believe the man was ever the one protecting  _him_. He still didn't.

"Even regarding my simple duties as your servant, never a single word of thanks." he despaired,

"It was your job." Arthur clipped. Merlin's jaunt face twitched and he yanked on the chain attached to the one around Arthur's neck -  _like a leash,_ Arthur thought, ashamed of himself and what he had created.

"A job which I devoted my  _life_ to! I went well beyond the line of duty every day and  _you knew that!"_   he screamed in Arthur's face, the king flinching violently.

"You always saw my kind as lesser. Not just than you, but  _less than human._ " the sorcerer bit out, disgusted.

"Well," he smiled again, "I've come to a conclusion-" Merlin yanked Arthur to his feet by his chain, "maybe, just maybe,  _you_ are the lesser ones. Cattle compared to our sophistication, weak compared to our  _glory_."

"Merlin, I know you don't actually think that. It's that creature, it's gotten confused, you're not you-"

" _I'm more me than I've ever been in my life!"_ Merlin barked. He spun around, tugging Arthur along by the neck.

"Come, my lord, let's see how special you really are..."

 

{«~»}

 

The stranger before him who took the form of Arthur's beloved manservant dragged him all the way to the North Tower. A thunder clap made the ground shake, and rain cascaded down from the heavens - there wasn't a doubt in Arthur's mind that Merlin had caused it.

"Look upon your city." Merlin requested, forcing Arthur's head around to gaze upon the destruction that lay at his feet. 

The look of despair and profound worry that crossed Arthur's face brought a smile to Merlin's that reminded the king of nights around the fire and afternoons on the training field. Arthur's heart sank painfully. Suddenly, Merlin faced out into the murky sky and took a deep breath in.

Then he roared.

It was beautiful and terrifying, it made Arthur's hairs stand up on end. Ancient words of infinite power erupted from the raven-haired man's lungs, reaching Arthur's very bones. The dragon creatures all bowed beneath him; then, in perfect unison, sent surges of fire dancing along the streets of Camelot. The Dragonlord fell silent once more.

Arthur could've screamed in anguish, curse this man for bringing such a scourge upon his lands. But this was Merlin, so he watched silently as his legacy crumbled in a haze of smoke.

 

Before Arthur could realise what was happening, Merlin had shoved him onto the edge of a turret, being held up only by the chain around his neck. It dug into his flesh, almost certainly drawing blood. Arthur panted and struggled, but did nothing more than resemble a squirming maggot, as Merlin happily and maliciously pointed out.

Terror surging through his every nerve, contorting his features and his breaths, he finally began to plead with the sorcerer.

"Please Merlin, oh Gods, please don't let go of the chain..." he choked back tears. Merlin positively grinned. 

 

 

"There is no more chain." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest to god, this is getting dark af, omg. Oh well, I do promise I'll make it better <3


	14. Night Terrors (Pt.3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride cometh before the fall.

_Why,_ Arthur wondered,  _why do I always find myself here_ _?_

He remembered many-a-day of grieving, decreeing, observing his people from the North Tower. He always found solace in its constancy in his life. 

Then, however, as he found himself dangling from its walls - walls which had granted him strategic advantage in too many battles to count - he felt nothing but cruel irony drowning his soul, swallowing his hope and any sign of resistance. He resigned himself to this fate.

He supposed it was his destiny.

As rain streaked through the darkness of night and smoke and cooled Arthur's face, a sound rose from the earth. A humming, droning? 

 

Memories assaulted his mind; of losing battles and joyful festivals; of drunkenly celebrating and sombrely sending off. The words reignited the embers within the king's soul. They were words which every citizen of Camelot knew, every man, woman and child.

A song that had begun its life as a drunken sea shanty, then bringing joy to battlefields, then happy chants for the people of Camelot to celebrate their kingdom, then as the very thing they sang to their dearly departed to aid in their journey to the afterlife. Those words were the heart of Camelot, it was her song. Her lands, her people, her warriors, her leaders - they all were united through this song. This song of pain, hope, power and _love_.

Merlin looked around and spotted the wall of people of all backgrounds gathered, their arms linked, a few feet from the edge of Camelot's walls. Every one belting their lament, their warning, their resistance. Many sobbing, many with faces of anger and determination, many with red faces, almost every member of this vast and commanding choir showing all three.

The Dragonlord scoffed.

Then he chuckled.

Then he burst into hysterical laughter.

"Do your people  _honestly believe-_ " he gasped in between his cackles, "do they- do they  _honestly believe_ that  _you_ are  _actually_ destined to protect them?! To  _serve_ them?!" he was positively howling, every part of his body shaking, the sound almost resembling the harsh screeches of a griffin. He yanked the chain on Arthur, reminding him who was in control. The man tried not to yelp in pain.

 

Then he stopped.

 

In the brief silence before Arthur's people would reach the chorus, Merlin spoke quietly. His words were a shard of ice sculpted into a sword - driven ,emotionless, through Arthur's chest.

"Then they are fools."

The chain slipped lazily out of the grip of the sorcerer. A desperate and savage yowl surged forth from the king's burning lungs, tears erupting from his eyes as he frantically grabbed for something,  _anything;_ a symphony of voices echoing through the haze, the narration to his demise sang by the very people who showed him such devotion now that Merlin had once displayed  _every day_. This cold, pale ghost of his complexion against the backdrop of smoke  & night and harshly lit by a bolt of lightning was the last thing Arthur could see before only the sky filled his view. An image forever scorched into his mind, all-encompassing and morbid.

Then he was falling.

 

And falling.

 

 

And falling.

 

 

 

And falling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeeeeeeee!!! (sorry)  
> I based the vibe of the song on Deliver Us from The Prince of Egypt (this turned out way too religion-y lol)  
> Death is no match for one who commands the earth.


	15. Perimortem Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ygraine says heyo from beyond the grave. Also, lol, what's death?

_"Arthur."_ he heard her call, " _Arthur, karantezig?"_

Arthur was sure he was still falling, but the voice of his mother filled his mind to the point that he could no longer worry about such a trivial matter.

" _Mother?"_

 _"Hello, Arthur."_ she spoke ethereally, tenderly,

_"I cannot see you."_

_"It is not I that you are in need of seeing..."_ her voice was growing quiet. No! Arthur can't let her go, not just yet,

_"Mother, I love you! Please don't leave me!"_

_"I do not intend to, karantezig."_ a warmth spread to Arthur's face. He saw it, he saw her! Her delicate hand lay protectively on his cheek as she smiled warmly down at her only son, her glowing skin the only clue that she wasn't really there.

_"I only want to show you something..."_

_"But mother!"_

_"Hush, my child. Do not focus upon that which is lost, for if you do, you may never discover the wonders that surround you. They are alive with their quivering hearts, beating and pulsing with life. Stillness does not yet call to you, do not surrender to it now."_ she paused, taking her hand away. 

_"Now search your mind and shine light upon that which is so often overlooked by your father's naivety. Show yourself that which is hidden in front of your eyes. Live, my son, and love...please, for my sake; love..."_

The warmth of her touch faded and Arthur was launched from his dream, sparse rain scattering on his royal features, cold air filling his starved lungs as an entirely new warmth gripped him by the waist. Hoisting him, lifting him...

 

{«~»}

 

The voices of his people filled the air, lifting his soul as golden tendrils lifted his body through the air. He floated upwards, saved from death. Violent, feral winds whipped at his surroundings; Arthur even swore he saw the castle falter under its force as rain ripped at his face and body like liquid needles.

His mind was still processing it all as he was lifted above the royal turrets and his saviour came into view.

 

There - eyes glittering as full of gold as the morning sun, chasing away the darkness of the night - was Merlin. His Merlin, the real Merlin. The golden glow of magic radiating from his skin, his face contorted with real pain as tears fell from his eyes like the rivers and waterfalls of Camelot's forest. He was singing with them, with Arthur's people - and louder than all of them. It was beautiful and humbling and the minute Arthur's feet touched solid stone he threw himself at the man. 

Wrapping his arms around him like he was the most precious thing in the world about to be taken away from his king, Arthur kissed Merlin. Every single apology and plead and confession he'd ever ached to say both before and after the utterly moronic decision to banish his love, all of it went into one long, desperate unity of their souls in  _this kiss_.

 

Gently pulling away (but still clinging to the king), Merlin whispered the final words of the song and a wave of magic erupted from every fibre of his being. It reached out into the death and destruction that lay below them and the only way Arthur could describe it was as life itself, in its purest most honest form. Then Arthur saw the knight laying lifeless a few feet from them gently return to consciousness, nay,  _to life_ and sit up - totally unharmed.

Arthur turned to the miraculous man before him just long enough to see the blinding light fade from his face, body and eyes as his limp form collapsed onto the king.

 

"It's okay," Arthur whispered into Merlin's soft tufts of hair, "it's all over now..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! And...breathe. There's still more tho!!!! So don't stop reading!!!!  
> Karantezig - Brittonic/Brythonic for "darling/sweetheart" but in a like, not romantic way. (i think - i got it from some website, don't quote me!)😖😫


	16. Rest and Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We love a happy ending!! 😆😆❤  
> Arthur POV to start with, then Merlin.

After taking Merlin straight to Gaius, and then promptly being scalded by the man to get some rest (which he did, until morning), Arthur was fully expecting to be greeted with a long list of casualties and repairs. What he found, however, was a knight knocking on his door before the king had even properly got dressed,

"What is it?!" he demanded.  _Really,_ he thought,  _knocking at this hour._

"Your Majesty?" a voice called. Arthur  _was_ planning on getting up early to check on Merlin- he's stuck. Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King of Camelot and Ruler of the Lands of Albion, got his arms stuck in his tunic; right up over his head, too, so he couldn't see a thing.

Practically ripping the garment apart in a rushed attempt to get it on, he whipped his head around and promptly forgot all his childish frustration when he was met with the sight of four of his finest knights grinning at him, alive.

"Alright, princess?" Gwaine's husky voice purred,

"Hope you haven't damaged that tunic." Elyan teased, to a very amused and chuckling Percival,

"Nah, just his pride." Leon deadpanned, as Arthur let a very undignified (and not at all befitting for a king) beam spread across his face as he ran at his men, pulling them all into a good-natured hug full of camaraderie and years of unwavering trust in one another.

The only thing to break up the group was the clearing of someone's throat as Guinevere's face came into view,

"Gwen! Oh, you are a sight for sore eyes!" she giggled as Arthur added her to the mass of sweaty men, not sticking out event he slightest in spirit. After ruffling her brother's hair a bit, she pulled away and told Arthur not to worry about casualties  _or_ repairs, but to simply look outside his window.

Arthur did as he was told and found not a single trace of the destruction that had plagued his kingdom not a few hours ago, but instead found his people bustling about with their daily lives, as if nothing had changed - well, save for the not-so-quiet whispers telling stories of a powerful sorcerer saving their kingdom; but Arthur was already fully aware of how much Merlin had done for himself and his kingdom, on countless occasions, risking his life almost daily, never seeking a word of thanks.

 

King Arthur made a decision that day, and he'd be damned if he didn't see it through by lunch.

 

{«~»}

 

Merlin was groggy when he awoke -  because why wouldn't he be.

"Good morning, Merlin." came the voice of Gaius that, although it also meant a stern telling off for carelessness and The Eyebrow, meant food and drink. Sure enough, when the old man came through the door into his nephew's room, he did so holding a bowl of porridge and (thank the  _Gods_ ) a cup of tea.

"Phwah haphenm?" Merlin asked in between mouth-fulls of warm porridge and sweet tea,

"I'm afraid I have been instructed not to tell you." Merlin paused his inhalation of the spread and gave Gaius a scalding look,

"By who!?" he demanded (much more coherently after swallowing his food).

Merlin's question was not answered by Gaius, but rather by the telltale creaking of Merlin's door opening. Gaius got to his feet and prepared to make his leave, making way for the king of all Camelot to scooch past him and plonk unceremoniously onto the edge of Merlin's bed, a huge, shit-eating grin consuming his face.

Said grin faded into almost nothing when he noticed Merlin's admittedly puzzled expression.

"I'll leave the two of you to..." Gaius trailed off before opening the door to leave,

"Oh, and Gaius?" Arthur requested, Gaius turned to the king,

"Thank you... for taking care of him." Arthur gestured toward Merlin, smiling warmly at the man who has been mentor and friend to them both.

With a gentle nod, Gaius closed the door behind him and left Merlin and Arthur to their devices (gods know they have a lot to talk about).

 

"How much do you remember?" Arthur asked carefully. Merlin was somewhat taken aback; after all, Arthur rarely considers his feelings in anything,

"I-I remember..." Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder, "Take your time." the king smiled softly, obvious concern spreading on his face.

"I," Merlin had to look away for a moment, "I remember waking up in my bed after being... kidnapped by those uh, bandits." he paused to think further,

"I, we went on a hunting trip?" he scrunched his face with the effort, " Something happened, that's as far as it...I can't- I mean there are some other gaps but that- it just-" Arthur could see Merlin begin to strain himself and gently shushed his manservant, moving his hand. Merlin let himself look up at the king for the first time,

"When was the last time you slept?" he sounded concerned, because he was!

"That...is of no consequen-"

"When." Merlin let his eyes harden, Arthur's expression became pained, guilty...

"Not since the few hours after I gave you to Gaius-" Merlin barely let him finish before he cut the man off - it was a strange shift in dynamic for the two,

"Gaius says I've been here for a week." Arthur just nodded slowly, hanging his head like a child for a moment, before clearing his throat and sitting up straight again.

"Gaius told me you were possessed by... an Ihbtos?" he changed the subject. Merlin supposed that was best, he needed to know what happened...wait.

" _An Ihbtos!?"_   Merlin gawked, he'd never actually seen one, but he had sure as hell  _heard the stories!_

"He failed to mention their reputation among common folk..." Arthur let his lips upturn slightly in what  _could_ be interpreted as a smile,  _maybe._ Merlin groaned theatrically in disdain. Arthur chuckled.

"The treaty signing ceremony went surprisingly well."  _there he goes again,_ Merlin thought, _changing the subject._

" _Tell me_ you didn't wear that daft ceremonial armour!" he laughed lightly. Banter; banter is good.

"I'm wearing right now exactly what I wore that day." Merlin's attention was suddenly drawn to Arthur's very  _white_ (and not at all metal) tunic. He smiled triumphantly to himself. he knew that the Ihbtos gave him the courage to bring that up, but he never thought Arthur would take him seriously.

"Good," he quipped, "about time you started taking my advice on things." Arthur let out a relieved laugh at Merlin's easy insults before schooling his features and taking a deep breath.

"Merlin," he spoke sternly, Merlin instantly settled down, thus was important, "I'm going to give you a series of updates in quick succession, you mustn't comment until I am done and I  _implore you_ to think about your response very carefully." Merlin felt the panic bubble under his skin, but subdued it before nodding obediently. Arthur also nodded. Then he began,

"Any and all laws discriminating against magic folk were removed four days ago." Merlin went to open his mouth, but remembered what his king instructed, and refrained, "You attacked and destroyed most of Camelot but all charges have been dropped due to you instantly repairing the damages with the magic that I now know you possess and do not judge you for. I divorced Guinevere effective three days ago and you're late." Arthur paused. Neither of them spoke for an eternity. All Merlin managed to croak was, "Late for what?"

Arthur let a broad grin plaster his face, "You are to be made Court Warlock!" Merlin leaned over the side of the bed and promptly threw up in the bucket that was placed there. How dignified.

 

{«~»}

 

Merlin lay sprawled out on the lush grass, basking in the afternoon sun, listening to birds chirp and leaves rustle in the wind, trying his goddamn hardest not to throttle the ruler of Camelot. Arthur was busy laughing it up with the knights about Merlin's possession. But then he got to the bit where Merlin had him at the top of the North Tower and everything went quiet.

It'd been another week since Merlin woke up. He now occupied the chambers next door to Arthur's because his previous location was "woefully not befitting to a member of the Royal Court". However, Merlin still didn't think he had the whole story of the Ihbtos Incident. He knew that he was shot in the shoulder by a bandit, but why hadn't he seen it coming? What could have had him  _so distracted_ that his instinctual magic hadn't picked up that they were surrounded by  _bandits?_

He also knew that he'd tried to kill the king, but then came back to himself as he heard Arthur scream and watched him fall off the ledge, but once he'd brought Arthur back up, it would've  _killed_ him to use  _that much_ magic to heal the  _entirety of Camelot!_ So what on Earth caused the ancient magics to come to his aid like that? It didn't make any sense!

"Although, there are several parts of this story that I've... neglected to tell all of you. Even Merlin doesn't know these parts..." Merlin suddenly sat bolt upright.

"Merlin," he began, causing Leon, Gwaine, Elyan and Percival to stare expectantly at him, "would you like to know what you don't remember from that hunting trip? And what happened once you rescued me?" Merlin nodded suspiciously.

"Of course..." he added to the man sitting beside him.

"Close your eyes and I'll tell you." he ordered. Merlin gave him a funny look, but did as he was told.

"Now, Merlin, try to take yourself back to that hunting trip. What are we doing?"

"We're...sitting by the fire, it's dark."

"How do you feel?" Arthur asked, for all the world sounding like a cheap fortune teller.

"I'm angry at you, but I'm trying to make amends."

"Good, then what?"

"You come over and sit next to me to try and comfort me..."

"Then?"

"Then...nothing, then nothing, Arthur! I can't remem-" he was cut off by what was, quite possibly, the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him. Suddenly, the memories came flooding back to him. The bewilderment, the elation, the desperation. The peace and feeling of being complete. He felt the rain, he smelled the firewood and he tasted  _Arthur_.

This kiss - this third kiss - was a thank you, and a promise to always be there.

"Until the day I die." Arthur smiled ecstatically once he pulled away, the knights burst into applause (Gwaine obviously wolf-whistling).

Merlin smiled too, because the Ihbtos had done what it had set out to do. 

It had shown him Arthur's heart, and Merlin took it gladly. 

As was his destiny, as was his fervent need, and his undying wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For those Americans reading, I did mean comradery. But it's spelt VERY differently in the uk for some reason😅)
> 
> Yay! Everyone lives!!! Special thanks to my two most loyal commenters on this particular work:  
> Pippins_Mushr00ms & Lyss2011 , next one goes out to you, Lyss, for your spectacular commentary and critiques!  
> And to all of you who've been reading and keeping me updating, it's been terrible!!😉😉

**Author's Note:**

> Niiin


End file.
